Clicky Heels

I wore heels to school today. Yes, me, miss all-about-comfort, won't even wear a suit jacket or peacoat because they feel restrictive like straitjackets. I wore heels.
They are the only things that make me tall enough so that the Seven jeans my sister gave me (wish I was stylish like her) don't drag on the ground. I don't have a sewing machine so I can't hem it. I haven't showered and need to compensate for it. Thus, heels.
My heels make clicky noises in the hallways at school. I remember always hating clicky heels when I was in middle school and high school because it always made me sound old. Kids turn around in the hall and think you're a teacher when they hear clicky heels. Teachers are old. I didn't want to sound old.
But now, I am a year away from graduation. Walking down the halls now, I don't feel ashamed of my clicky heels. 20 isn't old, and if it is, that's what I am. Growing old gracefully means gracefully growing into clicky heels. I think I have grown into my clicky heels.